


Insequor Extremis

by Kalkasar (Mordhena)



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Jealousy, Mental Breakdown, Murder, Psychosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26371906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Kalkasar
Summary: WARNING: Seriously, if you don't do major character death, graphic violence and NO HAPPY ENDINGS IN SIGHTDon't read this!Malcolm Reed finally snaps under the pressure of the mission.Believing that Trip is having an affair with Jonathan, Malcolm decides to exact his revenge.
Relationships: Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Insequor Extremis

**Author's Note:**

> Of all the characters on ST Enterprise, Malcolm Reed always struck me as the most likely to ever 'go postal.'  
> Thinking on that possibility resulted in the following story. I warn you again, this is your last chance to turn back.  
> If you choose to read, then please be responsible for that decision and don't blame the author. :)

The corridors were dark, he'd only left the emergency lighting online; it was enough to see by, but only just enough. After all, he didn't need the light, he knew where he was going, he held the advantage of having a scanner. The ones he pursued had no such aid. Not even a phase pistol anymore; although they'd been stupid enough to try and take one, that had not lasted long.  
  
He smiled to himself as he made his way slowly along another hallway, not long now, they'd run out of places to hide. He'd inexorably pursued them to the last possible place. It was a fitting location, his territory, his home ground; the perfect place for him to claim what was rightfully his...finally.  
  
  
\--/--  
  
"Where is he?" his breath came in sharp, panting gasps and he leaned for a moment against a bulkhead, tremors shook his frame from head to foot; exhaustion had set in long ago only sheer instinct kept him on his feet.  
  
The captain shuddered and closed his eyes. If only he could rest, just for a moment, just long enough to catch his breath, long enough to _think_ ; there had to be some way out of this. He glanced at his chief engineer who had slumped to the floor and rested his head on his bent knees.  
  
"I dunno. He's somewhere near...I can't hear him, but ya know he's gonna make sure we can't unless he wants us to." He coughed and rubbed a hand across his ribs. "I gotta rest," he groaned. "My ribs are killin' me."  
  
"We can't." Archer grabbed Tucker by the arm and hauled him to his feet. "He's not going to allow that, we have to keep moving...C'mon." He physically dragged the smaller man after him along the corridor, but he knew in the back of his mind that they were rapidly running out of options. Every avenue of escape had been eliminated. He recalled the chilling voice over the comms to them:  
  
"You won't have much longer to wait, Captain. I've almost got you where I want you, you know as well as I that there's nowhere you can run...all your bolt holes have been sealed off." A pause. " _Invicem_ , Captain...you attended a good university, you know what it means...tell me what it means."  
  
_One by one_ , Archer thought dismally. _One after the other...systematically, by turns…_  
  
One by one, the man who pursued them had cut off any avenue of escape, One after the other, he'd 'dealt with' anyone who attempted to assist them. Archer closed his eyes at the thought, shaking his head to clear away the visions of blood and gore. Systematically he'd tracked Archer and Tucker through the ship and when he finally had them cornered, what then? He didn't dare allow his mind to go there.  
  
" _Move_!" he almost snarled at Tucker, shoving his friend in front of him.  
  
\--/--  
  
He was shaking; he noted it and narrowed his eyes. He had to remain cool. Keep his wits about him, oh yes, of course anticipation was sweet, but he couldn't let that distract him now. Not when he was so close to attaining the prize he'd so diligently pursued. He glanced at the scanner in his hand and his eyes gleamed coldly. "Almost there, he whispered, just a little further."  
  
Hefting the weapon a little higher, he walked on, padding on almost silent feet, along the hallway, knowing that his intended quarry was close, so close that he could almost smell the reek of fear that exuded from their skin.  
  
"You needn't be afraid of me, Charles," he murmured, "I won't do _you_ any harm; not if you cooperate...I'm sorry about the ribs, love...but you _would_ get in the way! I'll make that up to you, sweetheart, I promise."  
  
  
\--/--  
  
"He's insane," Tucker sobbed, trying to hurry his dragging feet a little more as he stumbled onwards in front of his captain and friend. "I don't know what came over him, Cap'n...I swear I don't know. He was fine last night, he was just his usual self, and this mornin' he said he had a headache, but he'd been gettin' 'em a lot..." Tucker's knees buckled and he sank to the deck.  
  
"I don't know why he suddenly just went off on this jealousy thing…"  
  
"Trip, come on!" Archer grabbed Tucker by the arm. "We don't have time to try and figure it out now. We just have to keep moving."  
  
"Leave me here, Cap'n. It's me he wants, he said that much. If I stay here, he might leave ya be." Tucker looked up at the captain. "Get outta here, get to somewhere safe an' ... just go, please?" His eyes filled with unshed tears and he dropped his head, slumping against the wall. "I'm done."  
  
"Trip, I can't leave you here -- he'll kill you too!"  
  
"No," Tucker whispered. "That's the hell of it, Cap'n. Mah hell. He won't kill me.  
  
"Nice try, Commander." Archer forced the man to his feet. "But I'm not leaving you here."  
  
Tucker resisted. "Sir!" He slipped into the rank easily as indicated by his sudden change of posture, as he straightened under the captain's hand. "I'm not goin' any further. You're the captain and ya gotta get out of this alive, it's my duty to..."  
  
"You're starting to sound like..." but he trailed off without saying the name.  
  
"Sir, you're the commanding officer. I'm the only ranking officer left who's able to protect you. Regulations state that ..."  
  
" _Regulations?_ " Archer shook his head. "I don't give a damn about regulations right now. We're going together."  
  
A soft sound had them both turn their heads in the direction they had come from. It wasn't much -- a click of metal against metal, but it was enough to galvanize them both into motion again.  
  
Tucker pushed the captain ahead this time, and he brought up the rear. He wasn't going to leave Jon's back open to attack if he could help it.  
  
  
\--/--  
  
  
He paused by a comm panel and flicked the switch. "You're wasting time arguing," he said in a light, instructional tone. "You just lost yourselves at least three minutes...sloppy." He clicked off the switch and adjusted the weapon again, swinging it in front of him as he moved on.  
  
  
\--/--  
  
  
Tucker froze in his tracks and turned around, trying to see along the corridor. "Damn you!" he shouted. "Why dontcha just come on out here and finish this?"  
  
He had had about as much of the taunting over the comms as he could take and his nerves were at breaking point. "Come on!"  
  
There was no answer; not so much as a flicker of movement to let him know the man had even heard his desperate challenge. He closed his eyes for a moment, passed a hand across his sweaty face and then turned on his heel and caught up with the captain.  
  
"That was a waste of energy," Jon told him. "He's not planning to show himself until he's good and ready."  
  
Tucker didn't reply, he was too busy concentrating on putting one heavy foot in front of the other. His mind was a fog of pain and confusion; he'd given up trying to sort things out. The only thought that kept echoing in his head was ' _Why_?'  
  
He was so absorbed in the process of keeping his body moving forward, that he didn't realize the captain had come to a halt in front of him. He ran into Jon and almost fell, but the captain steadied him.  
  
"End of the line, it seems," Jon said in a low pitched voice that was meant only for Tucker's ears. "The Armoury."  
  
Tucker struggled to raise his head, but the effort was too great. He sighed. "Bad choice o'words, Cap'n." He shuffled into the room behind his friend, and threw up a hand in a defensive action as the armoury was suddenly flooded with light.  
  
A moment later, the door hissed shut behind them, and he heard the unmistakeable sound of locking bolts clanking shut.  
  
"He's sealed us in here," he muttered.  
  
Archer nodded, looking around for any possibility of a defensive weapon. Aside from the gleaming torpedoes lying in their braces, there was nothing. Not so much as a data padd lay on any of the consoles. He passed his tongue across dry lips, suddenly longing for a glass of water and slowly sank down on the edge of a torpedo brace.  
  
Tucker groaned softly and slumped to the floor where he stood. He bent his legs and put his arms around them, resting his head on his knees, glad of the chance to rest anyway.  
  
There was silence for several minutes; the kind of silence that pervades the atmosphere in the presence of death. Tucker drew a deep shuddering breath and closed his eyes.  
  
Death. He'd watched three of his friends die in quick succession a few short hours ago on the bridge.  
  
Hoshi...poor innocent, beautiful Hoshi had been the first. Tucker sobbed, remembering her horrified expression as the energy blast from the rifle struck her in the act of reaching for the emergency comm to call for security.  
  
T'Pol rose to her feet. Made no threatening moves... stepped to Hoshi's side, feeling for a pulse. Tucker watched her turn her serene gaze towards the tactical officer, one eyebrow going up in query before death claimed her as well.  
  
And then, Mayweather. The ensign got to his feet, turned to face the attacker and lunged at him with a cry of rage. He wasn't afraid. He didn't even flinch when the rifle discharged. Tucker whimpered, trying to block the images from his mind, but he knew, he would never forget.  
  
"Up, Captain..." The attacker had said coldly, staring at the ashen faced man who sat in shocked silence in the command chair."  
  
"NO!" Tucker stepped forward, trying to place himself between the attacker and his best friend. "Stop this now...you've done enough, please...just put the gun down, we can...we can work this out, okay? Come on..."  
  
Cold, unfeeling blue grey eyes turned to him. "Step away, Trip." The gun was still poised to fire.  
  
"I won't! You don't have to do this, Malcolm...please don't do this."  
  
Recalling it, Tucker didn't know how he even retained the presence of mind to try and reason with the man. Somehow he had, though; somehow he'd known it was the only chance they might have to come out of this thing alive.  
  
"I do have to do this." Reed replied coldly. "It's the only way." He turned those cold eyes on Archer. "Captain's privilege buys you no _droit de seigneur_ -" he turned to Tucker. "No leader's first right to the 'love pickin's' for those of us who might not have had their rather charming noses out of the engineering texts at college."  
  
He looked to Archer. "You've no right to take what's mine, what I intend to ensure returns to me and _remains_ mine." At the last phrase, his cold gaze and freezing little smile turned toward the horrified Tucker, who was only now realizing his punishment for imaginary transgressions might be far more ongoing than the momentary pain his late comrades found at the business end of an energy rifle.  
  
"Malcolm," Archer said. "Can't we talk about this? You're a reasonable man, I'm sure we can reach an understanding…"  
  
"I have a _perfect_ understanding, Captain," Reed said with a sneer. "As I understand it, from the very beginning, you've been trying to take him from me, asking him to dinner, taking up his time -- _our_ time -- with trivialities that _could_ wait for another time. No more." He raised the gun a little higher, Archer clearly in his sights.  
  
"Malcolm, that's not true! Please, don't do this, ya know there's nothin' between the Cap'n an' I! I've told ya so again and again!" Tucker stepped forward, still keeping himself between Archer and Reed. "Besides, T'Pol always joins us for dinner, it's nothin' like what yer thinkin'!"  
  
"Tpol!" Reed sneered again. "I know her movements, Trip! She joins you for all of thirty minutes, long enough to eat, and give a report and then she leaves. Who else does that leave for you to sip wine with in _private?_ " He shook his head and returned a murderous gaze to Archer. "Now, stand...aside!"  
  
"No!" Tucker lunged at the man, attempting to knock him off balance. "Jon! Get outta here, RUN!"  
  
He was dimly aware of the captain moving fast behind him as he struggled with the tactical officer. He fought desperately to buy Archer some time to escape.  
  
By a fluke he managed to throw Reed off balance for a moment, and he looked up to see the captain bolt through a hatch an instant before the rifle butt caught him hard in the ribs, winding him and sending him to the deck in a heap.  
  
"Foolish, love." Reed had given him an almost indulgent smile. "You're merely delaying the inevitable...but I'm willing to play along...go after your lover. Let's have a game of plasma tag."  
  
That had been almost three hours ago. Tucker raised his head for a moment, looking around himself hopelessly. Reed had inexorably tracked them through the ship. Shutting down systems and sealing emergency doors. Systematically herding the two men like some kind of prey into the only place he'd left untouched -- the Armoury.  
  
They'd tried arming themselves. Tucker remembered taking the phase pistol from a small security office on C Deck. That was when the true, chilling reality of their situation set in. This was no sudden decision on Reed's part. The phase pistol was disabled in such a way as to be undetectable until someone attempted to fire it. The fact showed that some planning had gone into the events of this day.  
  
Reed had taunted them over the comms system, boasting about his foresight in making sure they were found utterly defenceless when the time came to carry out his 'game.'  
  
"Think of it as a training exercise," he'd said. "I call it, _Insequor Extremus_ \-- Extreme Pursuit. The _ultimate_ game, if you will."  
  
Tucker groaned in despair and dropped his head onto his knees.  
  
"Trip..." Jon's voice was low.  
  
"Yeah..." He looked up and met the captain's eyes.  
  
"We have to try and think of something," Archer said. "I'm not going to just sit here and wait until he comes..."  
  
He was interrupted by the sound of the locking bolts on the door clanking open.  
  
Both men looked towards the door sharply and Tucker struggled to his feet. He coughed and made a grab for his ribs as he stood, forcing himself not to double over with pain from the movement after sitting still. He took a few shallow breaths and made a half step towards the door as it slid open.  
  
"Malcolm?" He called the name softly, moving closer, looking for the man as no one appeared immediately.  
  
"Trip," Archer said in a warning tone as he too got to his feet, advancing on the open door. "Be careful."  
  
A moment later, Reed stepped into the room, still armed with the unfamiliar rifle he'd brought onto the bridge with him that morning. "Ah, gentlemen, I trust you've had ample time to catch your breath?"  
  
To Tucker's amazed disgust the man smiled as though he was asking the question after a game of racquet ball. Tucker swallowed convulsively and shook his head slightly; he had to keep a clear head now. It was important not to let the insane actions of the other man cloud his judgement.  
  
Reed waved the rifle at Archer, gesturing for him to move away from the torpedo bracket. "Over there, Captain," he said softly. "I wouldn't want to cause any nasty accidents."  
  
"Malcolm." Tucker's tone was insistent as he tried to catch and hold Reed's attention.  
  
"Not now, love, you can see I'm busy!" Reed's eyes flickered to his face for an instant before he turned his attention to Archer. "Move, please."  
  
Captain Archer drew himself up to his full hight, his green eyes flashing as he met Reed's steady gaze. "That was a good game," he said with a smile. "You've proven yourself to be a superior man in every respect. I knew I chose wisely when I selected you as my Armoury Officer...well done, Lieutenant!"  
  
Tucker turned to look at the captain in utter disbelief. What the hell was Jon saying? He was talking to a man who had just murdered most of the bridge crew of his ship and _congratulating_ him on a job well done?  
  
Reed smiled. "Thank you, sir. Now please, move over by that console."  
  
Jon nodded and moved to where Reed indicated. "You...displayed some fine marksmanship back there," he said, keeping his expression open and friendly. "I'm impressed...you can be sure it will be mentioned in my next report." His eyes darted just for an instant to Tucker's face and then, beyond him to the door.  
  
Tucker frowned. _What?_ He slowly turned in the direction of the door and peered into the shadows beyond. He thought he caught a flicker of movement, but who could possibly be out there?  
  
"I'm flattered, really." Reed's voice drew Tucker's attention back to the situation in the armoury, "But I think we both know you won't be submitting anymore reports, Captain. You lost."  
  
"Malcolm..." Tucker took a half step towards the man that, until just a few hours ago, he'd believed himself to be in love with. How could he be in love with this monster? How could he have any feelings now beyond revulsion and horror for what he'd witnessed here today, and yet, some small part of his mind told him he still did. He loved Malcolm Reed.  
  
"I won't warn you again, Trip. Stay out of this."  
  
"Malcolm, listen! Jon an' I are friends…I told ya…we've known each other for years, there's never been anythin' between us beyond that. Ya gotta believe me!"  
  
"Really? Then why are you so eager to protect him? If he means so little to you, you wouldn't be pleading for his life!" Reed took a menacing step towards Tucker and the engineer braced himself, ready to fight if need be.  
  
Archer moved and instantly the rifle was trained on him again, Reed standing rock steady, poised to press the trigger. Archer raised his hands in a placating gesture.  
  
"You're right," he said. "I lost, and you won fair and square." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  
  
"Yes, and now it's time for you to pay the forfeit." His finger tightened almost imperceptibly on the trigger and Tucker lunged forward.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Phlox, _now!_ "  
  
Tucker dimly heard the command from Archer as the world seemed to explode in light and noise. He tried to draw breath to scream but there wasn't time. He felt himself falling...falling and then there was blackness.  
  
\--/--  
  
_Beep._  
  
He moved his head slightly and moaned in irritation, who was calling him at this hour? He was tired, dammit, and he'd asked not to be disturbed. *beep* He shook his head with another irritiable grunt. "Dammit," he muttered groggily. "go'way"  
  
_Beep -- beep -- beep._  
  
Slowly he felt the darkness lifting; the beeping was too repetitive and insistent to be a comm signal. He drew a breath but stopped it with a hitch of pain as his ribs protested.  
  
"Wha?"  
  
"Trip?"  
  
"Cap'n?"  
  
"Doctor, he's awake!"  
  
He sensed the movement rather than seeing it as someone moved to stand at his side, and he rolled his head towards the presence he felt there, slowly lifting a hand to his face and encountering bandages. "What...happened? Why?"  
  
"Just relax, Commander, I've had to bandage your eyes for the time being. No permanent damage is done, just a little burning from the flash."  
  
Suddenly memory returned. "Malcolm?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Tell me...what happened to Malcolm?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Trip." The captain spoke softly. "There wasn't anything we could do...I..."  
  
"He's...dead, isn't he?"  
  
"The weapon misfired," Phlox's voice this time. "It was, at best, a prototype. Lieutanant Reed was developing it himself...sadly, he hadn't compensated for what may happen if the weapon overheated."  
  
"Oh god..." Tucker turned away from the doctor.  
  
"I'm sorry, Trip." Archer again.  
  
"Yeah... so'm Ah," Tucker muttered. He felt a desolate emptiness rise within him. "I...I'd like t'sleep now,"  
  
"Trip..." Archer's voice was thick with emotion. "There's something I think you might want to know."  
  
"Can't imagine what."  
  
"Travis..."  
  
"What about him?"  
  
"He...survived." Archer said, his voice almost a whisper.  
  
"Indeed he did," the doctor agreed, "although it was touch and go for a few hours."  
  
Tucker nodded. "Thanks." It was a small compensation and he knew he should feel glad, but he couldn't find it in himself. "Tell him I said I hope ... I hope he..." words failed him.  
  
He felt Archer's hand on his shoulder for a moment before the hiss of a hypospray brought him darkness and blessed relief.  
  
~FIN **~**


End file.
